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Your Chicks for Free

November 10, 2012

Your Chicks for Free

“Welcome to the first meeting of the WPA. I’m Rich, the president.”

There were several replies of “Hi, Rich” and the like, though a few were almost inaudible and one was more akin to a growling sound.

“First, a couple of announcements. It has been brought to my attention that the acryonym, W-P-A, is the same as the World Psychiatric Association. Due largely to concerns of protecting our good name, we will be changing it. We certainly don’t want to be associated with an organization that supported torture, now do we? Heh-heh… Suggestions for a new name and acronym will be taken after the meeting.

“Next, I noticed that the donation jar is empty. I’m fairly certain I stuffed a $20 in there myself this morning and I’d appreciate its return. Plus, c’mon, guys. It’s not like any of us are strapped for cash.

“Final announcements, a few members could not be here today and sent word.”

Rich shuffled through some notes. He at last found one and unfolded it. He did not really need to read it, the red crayon and large letters mostly spoke for itself.

“‘Have fun you goofballs! I’m int…intuch…’ I think he means ‘untouchable’. That one is from George. The younger I assume.

“Next, David can’t be here. He sends his best. He is on a date! We wish him well with that.”

Rich folded and put the messages back into his pocket.

“But enough of that. Now, I’d like someone to open up the meeting. What about you, sir?”

“Uh, sure… My name is Buzzy and I’m a…a…”

“It’s okay, Buzzy, you can say it.”

“I’m a war profiteer.”

The usual hi’s were repeated. One person apparently knew him and therefore used the familiar “Buzz.” There was also the growl.

“And what would you like to tell us, Buzzy?”

“Well, technically I guess one is only a war profiteer if one actually profits, right?”

“I think you’re fudging a little. Maybe not accepting responsibility for those you have done harm to. Recall, please the Steps. Now, c’mon, you must have admitted to God-as-you-understand-Him what you did. Take the next step…tell a human being. We’re all human beings, here, right?”

There was a pause and then one or two tentative affirmations.

“Alright.”

Buzzy straightened himself and adjusted the bottom of his silk tie.

“My friends tried to shortsell airline stock. I helped them, rather than try and stop the… thing… that made the stock go down. Three thousand people died as a result.”

“And how did that make you feel, Buzzy?”

“Pretty crappy. We didn’t get to pick up the money because someone noticed the uptick. I mean, what is the point of knowing stuff like that if you can’t even make a buck off of it, right?”

Rich looked to his right and checked the Hi-My-Name-Is badge before speaking.

“Erik, you had your hand up. You wanted to add something?”

“Yeah. I made sure that the only opposition to the people who… made the stock go down…were taken out the day before that happened and then framed those guys for it. That way, they had no choice but to come to me to ‘take care of it.'”

“Ok. And what does the Book say about that? Don’t you want to make amends to those you and Buzzy harmed?”

“Well, Rich, I’m a little confused on that point…”

“Really? How so, Erik?”

“Well, the step says, ‘God as you understand him.'”

“Yes…”

“That is pretty much how I understand Him. Killing and framing Muslims for money. If He didn’t like it, He’d like stop me or something right? I’m real successful, like King David…or…or… Indiana Jones!”

“I don’t really see how that related to Indi—”

“Oh, by the way, I’m not actually here officially. I’m in the United Ar—”

Brrrrring.

“Hang on, guys, my satphone is ringing.”

Erik walked away to take the call. Another hand shot up immediately.

“Yes, Scooter?”

“The leaves are turning. The roots of the trees are connected. The crow flies at midnight.”

“Dude…what the f*** does that even mean?”

Another hand.

“Yes, uh, Cofer, is it?”

“Yep. What happens if the people you harmed aren’t…uh…in any condition to have amends made to ’em? Not saying any of that actually happened, mind.”

“Hm. That is a tough one. Let’s all think on that, shall we? What about you, sir? You haven’t done much but growl the entire meeting. Would you like to talk about yourself?”

“No!”

“Now, c’mon…we have all made money off of the suffering and death of others. It’s okay, you’re among friends.”

“It was in a blind trust, a blind trust, I tell you!”

“What was?”

“Go f*** yourself!”

“I think that concludes our first meeting. Overall, it went well, don’t you think?”

There were again the half-committed attempts at affirmatives, the occasional chin pushed up and forward, followed by the growl of the surly man who had just spoken up.

One thing was certain. With all that anger and disorder, there would be a need for War Profiteers Anonymous for a long time to come.

Or, if things got bad enough, there’d be no need for it at all. All in all it was a win-win for any but the most deluded of naysayers for certain, and whoever listens to those?

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